


The Magic Age

by Anise



Series: Prophecy Rising: A Canon Divergent Star Wars AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Armitage Hux is a child, Armitage Hux is jealous of Ben, Bad Parent Han Solo, Ben Is A Child, Children In Danger, F/M, Gen, Love Triangles, Prophecies, Rey is a child, Snoke has a tragic past, future smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anise/pseuds/Anise
Summary: Every love story has a beginning, but some are more dangerous than others. It's almost Ben's birthday, and eight is a magic age. Rey, the new child staying with him in Senator Leia's apartments, is able to make all his nightmares go away. But the sinister Snoke can foresee what their future will be, and Rey does not fit into his schemes to manipulate Ben.  He will remove her to achieve his plans for power... by any means necessary.





	1. The Meeting

A/N: This fic is set in the _Prophecy Rising: A Canon Divergent Star Wars AU_ series. This AU all starts from one moment in the past: what if Obi-Wan Kenobi cut Darth Maul in half _before_ he killed Qui-Gon Jinn? Like the flap of a butterfly's wings, that one seemingly small act changed everything that came after it. Anakin Skywalker never turned to the dark side to become Darth Vader. Senator Palpatine's plans to build an empire failed completely. Mace Windu lived. Jango Fett's life was saved by Qui-Gon Jinn, and he made his son Boba swear to always serve the Jedi. The new Republic formed the United Federation of Systems. Darth Maul survived and headed the Criminal Confederacy. Some of Han Solo's worst tendencies grew and flourished, because he never formed his better self through fighting against the Empire. Rey has a half-sister named Rose. And so on, and on. 

But Snoke still inherited Palpatine's mantle, and he is now a well-respected senator from the Outer Reaches. And he has plans for the child, Ben Solo. Because the more things change, the more they remain the same... 

This fic takes place several chapters into _Prophecy Rising_. There are a lot of specific differences from canon, and you’ll see some of them here. (For instance: Rey, Ben, and Armitage Hux are all very close in age, Rey remembers her grandmother, Han Solo is really a jerk, Snoke isn’t scarred from old injuries the way he is in canon, etc.) If you have any questions about how it works, please ask! And enjoy.

+++

The room was dim; the lamp on the little table cast only a tight circle of shadow on the bed. The child was sitting up, blankets rumpled in his lap, his head tilted up towards his mother as she sat on the edge of the small bed and spoke softly to him. He thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and he loved her fiercely. When she talked to him, or smiled at him, or took him up in her arms—even though he was growing too big for that; he would be very tall, and she was petite—he would trace every feature of her lovely face, every line of her small body, as if memorizing a treasure that might be taken from him at any moment.

His eyes were following the lamplight shining on the curves of her coiled glossy brown hair, and he barely heard what she was saying until she sharply said, “Ben! Are you listening to me?” Then he did listen.

“And we’ll have your birthday party tomorrow. Who else are we inviting?” she prompted him.

“Shannara Windu?” he guessed.

“That’s right.”

“And Tag, don’t forget Tag!”

“I wouldn’t forget your best friend,” said Leia, stroking his brow. “Tag will be here early. Rae Sloane is bringing him to Coruscant on her ship in the morning.”

“He’s my very best friend in the whole galaxy,” Ben said earnestly. “And it’s a very super extra special birthday, too. So he absolutely needs to be here. Eight is a magic age, isn’t it?”

“That’s what they believe on Naboo,” she said.

“Grandma was from Naboo.”

Leia nodded, a shadow passing over her face.

Ben looked at his mother, or rather almost past her in the way that always made her feel uncomfortable in some way that she couldn’t define. Maybe it was the sudden bottomless look in his large dark eyes, as if he saw more in the landscape of his mind than he could ever see in the outside world.

“Sometimes she sings to me in my dreams,” said Ben.

“That must be nice, darling.” There were several holovids of Padme Amidala, and she’d shown several of them to her son. So it wasn’t strange that he dreamed about the grandmother who had died long before he was born. But it was one of those times when it seemed that he was talking about more than what he’d seen, and those always disturbed her.

Ben yawned. “Sometimes I watch her on Mustafar,” he said drowsily.

Cold fingers laid themselves along Leia’s spine. “Ben, where did you hear about the planet Mustafar?”

“I don’t know. It’s where she is, though. She stands on the landing strip with the ship behind her, trying to get to Grandpa. It was right before she had to go away into the dark because of the bad General, he was named Greevy or something. And then Grandpa cried. Uncle Obi tried to help, but he couldn’t get there in time… Ow, Mommy!”

Leia felt a twinge in her hand and looked down to see that she was clutching at her son’s small arm. She forced herself to loosen her fingers.

“It’s okay,” Ben said earnestly. “Grandma became a new baby far far away after that. She just had to go through the dark first. She lay on a funeral bier with flowers.”

 _Breathe,_ Leia told herself. _Breathe._ There was a holo of Padme’s funeral, one that had been widely distributed over the years. Ben had seen it, of course. Then he’d invented the rest.

“Ben, you’re just imagining a lot of this. Remember what I told you to do when you imagine?”

He nodded. “Draw the imagination, or write a story, or sing a song.”

“That’s right. But always understand the difference between imagination and reality. Anyway—” She was desperate to change the subject. “Tomorrow, we’ll have your special birthday party with a big chocolate cake!”

Ben nodded. “Yes. Eight is special. And I like chocolate.”

She rose, bending to kiss her son’s forehead. “Will you go to sleep now?”

“Yes.”

”Lanara is in the next room if you want anything. She’ll come in and check on you too. I’ll be back in just a few hours.”

He nodded as he lay down in bed. “Good night, Mommy.”

Leia closed the door as she left, feeling her son’s solemn eyes on her all the way out into the hall.

There were several guest rooms in Leia’s luxurious senatorial apartment. She walked to the one located right next to her son’s room and tapped the door open. The little girl was sitting bolt upright in bed, and her eyes shifted quickly to the door, as if wary of what an intruder’s presence might mean. And no wonder, thought Leia. The poor child had been found crying and abandoned in the desert just outside Niima Outpost on the wretched planet of Jakku. Nothing good had ever happened on that planet in all of its recorded history as far as Leia knew. The forces that would later become the Criminal Confederacy had fought the Republic some twenty-five years before, and their crashed ships provided the means for a few scavengers to barely eke out a living. Besides that, the only trade on Jakku was crime, mostly overseen by Zantar the Hutt. He liked to portray himself as a kindler, gentler alternative to his late and unlamented uncle Jabba. Leia wasn’t so sure the rosy portrait was accurate, but it was impossible to get anyone else in the Senate to agree that the Hutts on Jakku should be investigated.

Little Raina had been lucky to escape the child slavers, who snatched children for the stars only knew what purpose, each reason likely worse than the next. All anyone could find out was that she was six years old, nearly seven, and her family had left Jakku, which meant it was worse than pointless to keep her there. She was placed on a transport along with dozens of other children and brought to Coruscant as part of Leia’s initiative to draw attention to the plight of so many Outer Rim planets. After weeks of bureaucratic dithering about where she should be sent, Leia had firmly said that she’d take her in until the decision was made. She managed to leave out several choice but unflattering descriptions of the idiots who were more interested in using the children for political purposes than in bothering their heads about such minor matters as what should actually happen to them. For her, this was a triumph of diplomacy.

The child had arrived the day before, and Leia secretly hoped to keep her for at least a few weeks. She was sharp and clever, and could be a wonderful playmate for Ben.

“Are you ready to go to sleep, Raina?” Leia asked, sitting on the edge of the child’s bed, as she had done with her son.

“I think so,” said the child, in a clear, precise voice.

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes, very much, thank you,” said Raina gravely. “But I miss my sister Rose.”

Leia wondered if she should try to give the child false reassurance. No. In the face of that level, dark-eyed stare, she could only tell the truth. “If it’s possible, we’ll find her,” said Leia. “We’ll do everything we can.”

“Also, I don’t expect to stay long,” added Raina. “But thank you for taking me in as a guest.”

Leia smothered a smile. The child seemed wise far beyond her years. _I hope she’s wrong, though…_

“Well, we’re trying to find everyone from your family,” said Leia. “We’re trying hard, Raina. But we might not be able to do that. All we know is that they left Jakku a year ago.”

“I know. That’s when Grandma went away,” said the child. She sat up in bed, her back propped against the wall. Small, compact, her dark auburn hair slipping out of a braid, her dark golden eyes serious beneath straight dark brows. A pretty child, and an unforgettable one.

 _An old soul,_ thought Leia, and involuntarily, she shivered.

As she had done with her son, she pressed a kiss on the child’s brow before leaving. “Goodnight, Raina. You can meet my son tomorrow; would you like that?”

“Yes, thank you,” said the child, lying down to sleep and tucking the blanket carefully around her shoulders, as if afraid that a thief might snatch it from her at any moment.

Leia walked briskly down the elegant corridor, the spikes of her black heels clattering against the marble floor. There was no need for her to walk anywhere in the 500 Republica, of course; at the most exclusive address on Coruscant, residents rarely exerted themselves in that way.

In fact, she could have used the new matter transporter in her apartment. They’d been available for several years, ever since the Federation had begun to trade with systms in far eastern wild space, south of Teth. Some hardliners from the old Republic didn’t trust them, but Leia knew that they worked and were safe. They certainly saved a lot of walking or transport around Coruscant, between ships, and even to the closest neighboring planets. But she wanted to walk and needed the exercise to at least attempt to clear her mind. It was turning out to be a vain attempt.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the child Raina, for one thing. _An old soul. That’s what I thought about her. But why on earth did I think of that?_ Many people on Naboo believed in rebirth, especially among the Gungans, and she’d often wondered if her mother had too. Any beliefs related to localized gods and spirits were tolerated, unlike the forbidden Force. But any discussion of such topics was not encouraged in the heart of the Republic on Coruscant, to say the least. She had no idea why thoughts about reincarnation might have occurred to her then, when talking to the odd, solemn child from Jakku.

Maybe it was because she so often had the same thoughts about her own child.

He’d talked about reincarnation several times in the past year, although without using that term, of course. He’d just described his grandmother as being reborn after her death. He’d spoken about Padme’s murder on Mustafar at the hands of General Grevious, the crime that Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn had tried so desperately to prevent. Try as she might, Leia just couldn’t come up with a believable scenario where her eight-year-old son could have known enough about the incident to describe it in the way he had. The exact details had never been public knowledge. Her father, Anakin Skywalker, had once told her the story with a tight-lipped finality that warned her never to bring it up again, more thoroughly than any explicit warning ever could have done. She was pretty sure that he’d never told anyone else—except, of course, for Luke.

So how did Ben know these things?

As always, these moments chilled her, when her son seemed to know more than he should or could. It was dangerous, that sort of knowledge. Her own father had forbidden prophecy, telepathy, and clairvoyance along with any resurgence of the Jedi and Sith Orders. She knew why, of course; everyone knew why. Senator Palpatine would never have been able to try to seize power and make himself into an Emperor almost forty years earlier if the Jedi hadn’t failed. Their legacy was one of failure, as her father had so often said. They had invited evil by refusing to see its rise. The only way to stop such a takeover attempt from ever happening again was to outlaw both Jedi and Sith, to eliminate both light and dark. The galaxy lived in the peaceful gray center now, as it had since that day. Anakin Skywalker was the president emeritus of the Republic. Their democracy was strong. Everything was all right.

E _xcept for Luke. Oh Luke, will I ever see you again? Will you ever come back? Will our father ever even mention your name again?_

But she had buried that heartbreak years ago.

So why did she have all of these strange, shivery moments of unease, mostly centering around her son?

One answer came to her right away. The situation with her husband was enough of a reason on its own.

Leia narrowed her eyes, turned a corner, and kept walking, ignoring the goggle-eyed glare from a protocol droid hurrying to an apartment with an elegant ball gown in a bag over one metal arm.

Damn Han to his Corellian hell! Why wasn’t he here? Why was she expected to wait patiently at home while he flew off on some adventure or other with Chewbacca or that irresponsible friend of his, Jahangoll Fett? Yes, it was all well and good to say that he needed to make sure the Fetts stayed loyal to the Republic. But they’d been sworn to the cause ever since Qui-Gon had saved Jango Fett’s life almost fifty years earlier. If any of them were going to turn traitor, Leia was pretty sure it would have happened by now. So why wasn’t Han living up to his responsibilities? Above all, why wasn’t he helping her more with Ben, her troubled, beautiful child? Why did she have to do everything?

There were times when she never wanted to leave Ben’s side, wanted to hold him close all the time and reach into his spirit with frantic hands, molding every potential darkness that frightened her so much into safe and serene light. But she knew that overprotecting her son wasn’t the answer and would only make him resent her. When to clutch tightly, when to let go; there was a time for both, but how to know when? Han should have helped her, should have stepped up to his responsibilities. Instead, he kept kriffing off to the far edges of the galaxy.

But each time he left her, she missed him a little less. And the pain of not missing him was more acute than missing him would have been.

A protocol droid opened the door.  “Senator Leia! How _delightful_ to see you. It’s a perfectly _lovely_ party, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself _immensely_. Do come in. I’ll get you a beverage _staightaway_. I _particularly_ recommend the Sunrise Over Alderaan, with a garnish of Jogan fruit.”

She smiled slightly, reminded of C-3PO. “Yes. That drink would be fine, thank you.” _The stronger the better!_

The party was already underway, the huge dining room filled with elegantly dressed diplomats. The scent of perfumes and exotic flower arrangements drifted over tables filled with exquisite rare foods; the air hummed with chatter and laughter and an underlay of soft music from the Bith band on a dais in one corner. An atmosphere of extremely refined corruption drifted through the room, thought Leia as she took the drink from a tray. Sweet-smelling, delicious, and very costly. And yet, corruption nonetheless.

The apartments for the Queen of Naboo were the most expensive that she had ever seen for any ruler or politician from that planet, thought Leia as she began to drift around, exchanging meaningless pleasantries. Some of the most trusted inner worlds were becoming venal and corrupt, their rulers interested only in what they could get for themselves—exactly the same sorts of problems that had led to the Separatist rebellion decades earlier, Leia knew. The queenship of Naboo was a good example. An office that had once been elected by popular acclaim was now for sale to the highest bidder. But her father wouldn’t hear anything against Naboo because her mother had once been its queen.

Queen Karana caught sight of Leia and bustled towards her, the train of her elaborate golden gown held up by two handmaids. The jewelry dripping from her ears and neck and wrists was worth a fortune; the glittering rings with their enormous rare stones were the ones that Padme had worn only on the most important state occasions, not a diplomatic party.

“Dearest Leia!” Karana gushed in an affected voice. “How very glad I am to see you. We haven’t spoken in far too long.”

 _Time to be diplomatic_ , thought Leia. She stifled a sigh, placed a smile on her face, and hoped that the evening would go quickly.


	2. In Dreams

**A/N: Thanks to all readers!**

Ben saw many things in his dreams that made no sense at all to his child’s mind. He often felt vaguely that they were things he shouldn’t know, and they were often too grown-up to understand. But when he was in the dreams themselves, he often knew that he was watching visions of truth. Sometimes, they were about things that had yet to happen. Sometimes, they showed events that had already occurred but that he couldn’t possibly have known about. He rarely remembered them, and it was even more uncommon for him to talk about them with his mother. Every once in a while, like tonight, he slipped up. He hadn’t meant to talk about his vision of his grandmother dying at Mustafar so long ago, but he couldn’t help it.

And sometimes his dreams were so unformed that there was no sense to be made of them at all. Tonight, he could see nothing clearly. There was only a vague sense that he was trapped a sticky web with no way out, no-one to help him, and nobody who could hear him scream. And in the middle of the web was a tall, gaunt man, or someone who looked like a man, his limbs long and spiderlike, weaving the sticky strands that held him, a smile on his not-quite-human face. He could almost recognize that face, which was the worst part.

_Let me go,_ he pleaded silently.

_Alas, I cannot,_ whispered the spidery man. _You are the contingency, Ben. My young apprentice, though you know it not. And you will succeed where your grandfather failed me._

And he changed, as if the face that Ben almost recognized had been only a mask that was now removed. The new face was human, and it seemed to run and melt in rivulets then, leaving only a pair of glowing eyes and a cruel, laughing mouth. The phrase echoed again and again.

_You are the contingency… the contingency… the contingency…_

Ben scrambled up to his knees in the bed, torn away from the dream, gasping for air and covered in sweat. He opened his mouth to shout. But before he could make a sound, the door swung open. A little girl stood silhouetted in the doorway.

And he knew her.

Even though he didn’t know her at all.

She didn’t go to the school on Coruscant. She wasn’t the child of a politician he’d met on a play date. She wasn’t anyone he’d ever seen.

But he knew her still.

She came in sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at him.

“I came in because I knew that you were going to shout,” she said, by way of explanation.

“How did you know?” he asked, still gripping the coverlet.

She shrugged. “I just knew.”

_It’s dangerous to say things like that, to let anyone know that you know things you shouldn’t,_ he almost said, because that was what everyone around him always whispered about some of the things that he said. But he didn’t.

“Did you have a bad dream?” she asked, scooting a little closer.

He nodded, glad that she had moved closer to him. “I have a lot. But I never remember them.”

“So do I,” she said. “But I don’t remember them either.”

They sat for a few minutes with the unselfconsciousness that only small children can feel what they meet. And yet, he was conscious of her, as he had never been of any other living being. Her breathing was very soft, and her hair smelled like flowers.

“Who are you?” he finally asked.

“I’m Raina-sajj, from Jakku. Your mommy brought me here yesterday.”

“That’s a long name,” he said. “Can I call you Rey instead?”

“Yes. I like the name,” she said solemnly.

“I’m Ben,” he said, thinking about how small and light she was, like a pretty bird perched on his bed, almost looking as she were ready to take flight at any moment. But he wanted her to stay.

She nodded. “Do you remember the nightmare at all?” she asked.

 “No… I don’t know… maybe a little bit.” Ben shuddered.  “I don’t want to talk about nightmares anymore. Why did they find you in the desert all by yourself?”

Rey blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“I just… know.” Ben shrugged.

“I was looking for Rose. She’s my half sister.”

“Did you ever find her?”

“No,” Rey said stiffly. “But I will. I know I will. My grandma went away, but I will find Rose.”

“I don’t want to talk about any more sad things,” said Ben. “Tell me something good about Jakku. There’s always something to tell.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not about Jakku!”

“There’s always something good, everywhere,” he persisted. “Please, Rey.”

Rey seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Sandsurfing,” she said. “I love sandsurfing. I used to go with Grandma sometimes.”

“Tell me about that.”

Ben obediently lay down, and she moved so that she sat cross-legged next to him.

“You have to go to the sand dunes just outside Niima outpost,” Rey began. “You bring these boards, made of polished metal, made from scrap ships, I think. The bottom is all shiny. Then you strap your feet to the middle of the board. You go all the way up to the top of the dune—it’s a lot of work, but you know what’s coming next.”

Ben nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open, to memorize every detail of this moment, of Rey’s profile against the lamplight and the creamy blush of her cheeks as she spoke.

“Because then, you stand on top of the dune, the very top—and you let go. Whoosh!” She made a graceful motion with her hands. “All the way down.”

“It sounds fun,” murmured Ben.

“It is. You feel so alive. So close to everything good. But then Grandma went away. I kept sandsurfing sometimes, though.”

“How did you get to go after that?” he asked curiously.

“The acolytes would sandboard when they worshipped R’iaa. They sang as the boards went down the dunes. I would stand behind one of them on the board. They would take the children sometimes…” Her voice trailed off, and Ben thought that she looked sad.

He reached out and touched her hand, and she gave him a startled look.

 “I want to go sandsurfing sometime,” he said.

She smiled. “I don’t think there’s any sand here.”

“There might be,” he insisted. “There are indoor pools, and trees and gardens, and places where you can fly in a glider. I bet there’s sand somewhere. We could sandsurf here.” He had a sudden flash of inspiration. “I can bring my friend Tag, too.”

“Who’s he?” asked Rey.

 “My very best friend in the whole galaxy. His real name is Armitage. But he likes Tag better, and I do too. His dad was a bad man, but Rae Sloane took him away, and now he’s learning all about the HoloNet. She’s the chief officer of the Culture Division of the Republic.”

“That’s good.”

“He’s going to be at my birthday party tomorrow.”

Rey’s long, dark eyelashes swept down to shadow her cheek. “Maybe I can meet him.”

Ben smiled at her, because liked the idea of his best friend meeting his new friend.

And yet…

And yet, the idea of Rey meeting Tag Hux set a vague tremor of unease running across his skin, too, like a whispering premonition of conflict to come.

“Can you go to sleep now, Ben?”she asked, breaking into his brooding thoughts.

“Will you stay with me?” he countered. “I think I won’t have any more nightmares if you’re here.”

She nodded, her dark golden eyes serious. ‘I’ll make them all go away,” she promised.

The two children fell asleep, hand in hand.

In the large kitchen of Leia’s apartment, Lanara lounged against the breakfast table, giggling. She was the visiting teenaged niece of one of the senators from Ryloth, and Leia was bringing her in to babysit Ben during the weeks she was on Coruscant. The young man who was one of Leia’s senatorial aides stood just across from her. Or at least he’d said he was an aide, and Lanara wasn’t hard to convince of anything when she was entranced by a handsome man. He had long, glossy blond hair that seemed very exotic to her, so unlike Twi’lek men, and his teeth were very white against his tanned skin when he smiled at her, as he was doing now.

“I’ll bet you’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“I’ll bet you say that to all the Twi’lek girls,” said Lanara, her lekku curving flirtatiously down her back. “And my sister’s probably better than I am. Oola dances for Zantar the Hutt on Jakku. She’s paid very well, and she has her own troupe.”

“I’m sure you’re even better, though.” He moved closer to her. “Did you know there’s a dance studio in this apartment?”

“No.”

“Well, there is. Remember what you told me about the Dance of the Turquoise Waves? I’d love to see you do it for me.” He reached out and caressed one of her arms, lightly.

Her giggle rose higher in pitch, but she shook her head. “I can’t go, Brian. I’m watching little Ben.”

“But he’s asleep, isn’t he?”

“Yes…” She hesitated.

“Just a short dance.” His hand dropped from her arm and skimmed over her hip. Lanara drew in her breath sharply.

 “One little dance,” he coaxed. “What could that hurt?”

“But I couldn’t get in the room anyway,” she protested weakly. “Leia keeps most of the rooms locked.”

“Oh, why?” asked Brian, an innocent look on his face.

“Maybe she thinks I’m going to steal something,” Lanara muttered.

“As if you’d ever do that.”

“Er…” Lanara felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of a few small, valuable items that had somehow found their way into her purse a few nights before. Not that the Senator would ever miss them, she assured herself. And if she didn’t save up some credits, she’d never be able to visit her sister on Jakku.

“There’s another way to get into any room, of course,” Brian said casually. He pointed to the small platform in one corner of the kitchen. “The matter transporter.”

Lanara cast it a nervous glance. “I’ve never tried one of those things. It doesn’t seem safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” said Brian, taking her hand and starting to lead her across the kitchen.

“I don’t know…” Lanara hesitated. “I shouldn’t leave Ben.” She was foolish and careless, but she had a good heart, and she cared about the child. She’d sung him traditional songs, told him bedtime stories about the magic birds of Ryloth, and performed little dances for him. And she knew that no matter how soundly he might be sleeping, she had no business leaving him, or going anywhere she wouldn’t be able to hear him. The same was true for the other child, the little girl Raina, who was sleeping in the room right next to Ben.

She opened her mouth to say as much. Brian silenced her with a kiss.

“Just one… little… dance,” he murmured, moving down to nuzzle her neck. His fingers toyed with her lekku, teasing at the most sensitive spots, and she shuddered in pleasure. “Only a few minutes, Lanara. Say yes.”

“Well… if it’s just a few minutes, I suppose…” whispered Lanara, letting Brian lead her onto the transporter platform.

He tapped at the control panel, smiling. “Energize,” Lanara heard him say.

What she didn’t know was that he had also sent a message to Senator Snoke.

_Lanara is out of the way. You may transport the boy when ready._

 


	3. The Secret Conversation

In the decades since Senator Palpatine’s failed attempt to seize power and turn the Republic into an Empire, the galaxy had changed a great deal. Yet Coruscant was still very much the same. The multileveled city that had replaced the original mountains and seas still bristled with skyscrapers and luxury apartments. The richest citizens still breathed their preferred choice of air; their paths were still smoothed and their every need met by quality control, service, and protocol droids. The downlevels still teemed with poverty and crime, smugglers, bounty hunters, and luckless citizens alike struggling to live on waste gases and food scraps. And the entire Federal District still held endless secret rooms, unknown passages, hidden stairs, and private corners where plots were hatched unheard, tended in darkness to one day bear terrible and treacherous fruit.

Senator Snoke, representative of the far Western Reaches, the worlds on the very edge of the Outer Rim, nearly a part of wild space, stood on a balcony connected to his suite in the exclusive 500 Republica building. Little Ben Solo stood next to him, staring out at the endless mountains and canyons and valleys of the lit cityscape. He didn’t know it, but if he had looked up and to the left, he would have seen the balcony where Darth Maul once stood with Siduous in a secret meeting during the Clone Wars, both in plain sight and completely unnoticed. He didn’t know this. But Snoke did, of course. Because Snoke, whatever his true nature, was a being who knew a great deal.

“What are we going to talk about tonight?” Ben asked him in a wandering voice.

Snoke smiled down at Ben. He was far from young, but still a handsome humanoid man with sculpted features and thick dark hair. He passed a long, thin hand over Ben’s face, bending his considerable height down so that he could whisper in the boy’s ear.

 “Many things. Your birthday is tomorrow, is it not?”

Ben nodded.

“Eight is a magic age, a special age, my boy. A time of wisdom and of learning. There are many things you may begin to learn now, much knowledge that was not available to you before. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” said Ben, his eyes vague as he looked out over the city.

“But you can never tell anyone else. It will be our secret. Do you understand that?”

Ben looked up at the tall, gaunt man and felt the familiar thrill of excitement, and pleasure that this important man was talking to him and nobody else. But as always, the triumph was mixed with an eerie dread.

“I… I think so,” he said.

“No, you can never tell anyone else what I’ve told you,” repeated Snoke musingly. “It will be our secret alone.” The boy nodded in response.

What a shame that their meetings needed to be kept a complete secret, Snoke thought regretfully. Of course, it would not always be so; he had long ago decided that. One day, at least far as everyone else was concerned, Ben Solo would be meeting openly with his friendly, lifelong mentor, the Outer Rim political leader who had known him and helped him since childhood. Many people would likely think Senator Snoke to be a much better influence than Ben’s careless, handsome, roving father.

But not now. Not yet. Snoke had an inhuman patience, and he could and would wait until his plans ripened to that point. No matter what, he would obtain his revenge on the Republic that had once taken everything from him. _Revenge is a dish best served as cold as an ice planet,_ he thought. He smiled down at Ben, who smiled back, although his face looked uneasy.

Ben couldn’t remember when he’d first talked to Snoke this way, this secret way. He only remembered it when he was in Snoke’s private apartment. Then he forgot. Sometimes on the way out, sometimes when he was stepping into the matter transporter, sometimes when he got back into his bed he would remember for just a moment. But then, when he cried for his mother and she came running, he would forget before she’d even opened the door to his room.

“Things will change,” Snoke said caressingly. “We’ll know each other better and better. We’ll work more and more closely. We will share more secrets. I will show you more important things. You will become powerful in my teachings, Ben. And by the grace of my training, you will never, ever fail me. No-one can stand in our way. No-one must distract you.”

Ben turned his head up suddenly then, looking at Snoke with a troubled expression.

“Nobody at all?”

“We don’t want to worry your mother,” Snoke said soothingly. “You know that.”

“But what if there was someone else? Somebody important?”

Snoke blinked, taken off guard. He wondered what the boy could possibly mean, and whether or not it would be wise to press him for further details. These things must be done delicately, after all. No matter how carefully he manipulated Ben, there was so much about the child that he could never quite understand, something elusive that always slipped out of his grasp.

 A gust of wind blew a strand of dark hair over Ben’s pale face, a strangely random wind for Coruscant, where every detail of weather and climate were planned. It was a warm wind that carried the ghost of the summers this planet had once known. He continued to stare up at Snoke, his little face set into defiant lines.

“What if there _is_ someone?” he repeated, and for the moment, Snoke could think of no answer.

 

Since Leia had reached the age of fourteen or so a great many men had carried out lengthy conversations with her breasts. Senator Cholani of Corellia, who had cornered her at the Naboo party, was no exception to the rule.

“I’ve admired your recent work in the Senate, I must say,” he was now informing her chest.

“Oh… such as what, specifically?” she asked.

“Er…” He seemed at a loss for words, which did not surprise her.

“The bill to draw attention to the problems on worlds in the Western Outer Rim,” she said, deciding to take a bit of pity on him.

“Yes, yes,” he said in tones of relief. “Although I must say that I can’t really agree with your view that any unknown threats might exist in that area. The Criminal Confederacy is, as always, the only true danger.”

“I agree that CrimCon is a danger,” said Leia. “But there are signs that additional trouble may be brewing on planets like Jakku.”

“Well. You may be right.”

“You really think so?” she asked, not making any particular effort to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

“Perhaps we should discuss the matter further at some point,” said Senator Cholani, in a way that made her think it was unlikely he had heard a word she’d said. He leaned close to her and lowered his voice. _“Privately_.”

Leia raised an eyebrow. “Privately, huh?”

He waved a hand vaguely across the loud, busy space. “Somewhere quieter. You know.”

“Oh, I know, all right,” said Leia. “Such as your apartment?”

He brightened. “I’m so glad that you understand my meaning. Tomorrow evening would be perfect. Or perhaps… later tonight.”

“I’m sure my husband would love to participate in that discussion,” said Leia, suppressing a snicker with some difficulty.

“We may be forced to hold the meeting without him,” said Cholani. “Unfortunate, but there you are. “He hasn’t returned from that trip out to Teth yet, has he?”

“News travels fast,” Leia said dryly.

“But I should think you’d appreciate some intelligent conversation,” he said. “Han seems a bit more suited to discourse with that Wookie friend of his, what’s his name, Ooga-Booga? And that supposedly reformed reprobate, Jahangoll Fett? Meanwhile…” Cholani looked at her shrewdly. “You’re left alone on Coruscant to raise a child.”

She was silent.

“Come now, Leia. Wouldn’t you appreciate a bit of… company?”

She found her voice.

“If I did, rest assured, it wouldn’t be yours.”

“Are you sure?”

She eyed the Corellian senator and decided that she didn’t like him at all—not his oily assumptions about her availability when Han was gone, not his politics, not anything.

“Very sure.”

“I wouldn’t decide so quickly.” His handsome smile threatened to turn into a leer. “I can be very good company indeed.” He laid a hand on her arm. “

Leia shook off his hand, eyes blazing. “I’m sure that I’d rather go to bed with an Ewok than spend one more minute talking to you. And if you think—”

She broke off.

_Ben._

_Something is wrong._

The knowledge was as instant and sure and shocking as a blaster bolt.

She shoved Senator Cholani out of the way and began pushing through the crowds of partygoers to the door. It wasn’t until after she was halfway down the corridor that she realized she should have taken the matter transporter, that this was a time for instant travel if there ever was one. But by then, the homing instinct towards her son was so strong that she couldn’t turn back. She picked up the red shimmersilk train of her gown with one hand and began to run, her heels catching on the elegant carpet runner.  

 


	4. The Triangle

Rey opened her eyes to the dark room and instantly knew that something was wrong.

Ben was wasn’t beside her. She reached and felt the side of the bed where he’d been sleeping. The depression in the mattress was cool. He’d been gone for at least several minutes. But not longer, she thought.

She slipped out of the room and into the corridor as silently as a shadow. She was going somewhere, she knew that, but she didn’t understand the layout of this building at all. After several minutes of running, she stood pressed against one wall, breathing hard.

_Where should I go? Which way? How can I find him? Oh, R’iaa… help me… please…._

She stopped, breathed more softly, closed her eyes, and reached out. Rey had no idea what she was doing, but she simply reached out with her frantic feelings, and she found Ben. She opened her eyes and started to run again, with purpose this time.

The front door to Snoke’s apartments was secured, and she shouldn’t have been able to open it, but she did. Her little feet pattered through a maze of dark, elegant rooms, following the unmistakable feeling of Ben, solid and strong as durasteel. But also wrong, somehow, dulled, as if drugged.

Rey ran out onto the balcony that overlooked the gleaming city, and then she stopped. Ben was staring out over the edge, turned away from her, and he didn’t respond when she spoke his name. It had something to do with this tall, pale, gaunt man who was looking down at her now. He was at fault, and she felt a surge of anger.

“You leave him alone!” she yelled.

Snoke only looked down at her, appraisingly.

“How did you know the way here, girl? And how did you get in?”

Rey didn’t reply. He reached down and took her little chin between two of his pale, spiderlike fingers. Snoke looked so nearly human, but then a few things marked him as unmistakably alien—his height, his strength, and his impossibly long hands. He searched her face, and she looked defiantly back at him.

A strange look passed over Snoke’s face, one of unease, even as a smile curved his lips. As if he were both pleased and disturbed by what he found in her. “Ah. You know many things that you shouldn’t. You’re like him, aren’t you?”

Rey still did not shrink back. “You’re a bad man,“ she said. “You did something to Ben. I don’t know what. But you’re doing something bad. Let him go.”

“Such spirit! Such magnificent material to work with, both of you.” Snoke tapped a finger against his chin. “Alas, I can only keep one of you—at least for now. But I wonder if your time may come, little girl… I won’t forget you, and you may be sure of that.” He plucked at a strand of her hair and unexpectedly pulled at it. Rey gave a little shriek.

She grabbed Ben’s hand, ready to run. She’d drag him along behind her if she had to. “I’ll tell everybody about you. Then you’ll have to stop!”

“I’m afraid that you can’t be permitted to do any such thing.” Snoke passed a long, white, skeletal hand over her child’s face. Her golden eyes went blank.

He guided them into the matter transporter and sent them back to Leia’s apartment. They walked into Ben’s room, hand in hand, and lay down. Then the two children shuddered, and held each other tight, and cried, even though they didn’t know why.

Leia fumbled at the keypad in the vestibule. The door to her apartments refused to open; why couldn’t she just kick the door down and find out if her son was all right? As she set her teeth and tried the codes again, a protocol droid tapped her shoulder.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” said the SE4 droid. “I’m really _dreadfully_ sorry to disturb you, Senator Leia. But I’ve found this young woman wandering about in the corridor; she doesn’t seem to have the least idea where she is or how she got here. However, she does claim to be associated with you, so I thought…”

Leia looked at Lanara and drew a deep breath.

“Thank you, SE4. I can take it from here.”

She finally managed to get the front door open and led Lanara into the kitchen. The Twi’lek girl was crying and cowering, her lekkus trembling. Leia’s furious words died on her lips.

“Stay here,” she said tersely, striding down the hall to Ben’s room.

Her son was asleep, breathing deeply and evenly. The little girl Raina slept next to him, her hand in his. Her eyes softened when she looked down at the children. They both seemed all right, thank all the gods of Naboo and Corellia together!

She had meant to tiptoe away quietly enough not to wake either of them, but her son stirred and sat up.

“Mommy? What’s wrong?”

She smoothed a lock of his hair back from his forehead. “Nothing now. Are you all right?”

He nodded. “I had a bad nightmare, but Rey made it go away, and she told me a story. Can she stay here?”

“We’ll see,” said Leia. “Go back to sleep now, Ben.”

She got up and went back down the hall, thinking about how much she liked the child Raina, or Rey, as her son seemed to have renamed her. Maybe there was a way to keep her here, in some kind of fosterage. The child seemed to have nowhere else to go. Leia highly doubted that her relatives would be found at this point, although the girl’s sister seemed a more likely prospect than any of the others. Rose had most likely been taken in by the acolytes in a different village on Jakku. The mother, father, and grandmother, on the other hand… Leia suspected they were a lost cause.

It would do her son good to have another child to play with. And she’d never seen him respond this way to anyone, not even his best friend Tag Hux. Rey was a clever girl; she’d benefit from getting a good education here. Perhaps… She’d look into it in the morning.

In the kitchen, Lanara cowered, her lekkus trembling. She had just finished a tearful—and truthful—confession. Leia sighed, more disappointed than angry with the teenaged Twi’lek girl now that she knew both children were all right.

“Lanara, what were you _thinking_? I would have been happy to open the exercise studio for you anytime you weren’t supposed to be watching my son!”

“I’m sorry,” wept Lanara. “It was that man—he convinced me.”

“What man?” Leia asked, trying to be patient.

“Brian Trompeur. Your aide.”

Leia looked blank. “I don’t have any aides by that name.”

“That’s what he said,” insisted Lanara. “He’s tall, with long blond hair.”

For a moment, Leia wondered if there were something more going on than what met the eye. Then she shook her head. The mention of this Brian Trompeur’s appearance made the situation pretty clear. Lanara’s head had been turned by a smooth-talking young man who’d pretended to be connected to Leia herself in order to impress the girl. No more. _I certainly know what those charmers can be like_ , she thought.

Lanara was still crying and apologizing, and Leia’s heart couldn’t help but soften. Maybe she could still keep visiting Ben; he liked her. _I won’t be leaving her alone with him though, or with any other children!_ But Leia knew what it was to fall under the spell of a handsome con artist, and she couldn’t find it in herself to be too hard on the younger girl.

“Go back to your uncle’s apartments, Lanara,” she said tiredly.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” Lanara asked anxiously.

“Yes,” said Leia, wanting only to fall into bed. “Tomorrow morning, if you like, before Ben’s party.”

The next morning, Rey opened her eyes to see Ben sleeping next to her, his chubby face peaceful. She studied him. Strange feelings welled up in her, warm and good but almost painful in their intensity. It wasn’t good to feel so much for anyone except her sister and her lost grandmother-- and look at how that had turned out; it wasn’t safe. People could be taken from you at any moment, as she knew all too well. She felt the ghost of adult emotions to come, pulling and plucking at her, eager to bear fruit. But she was only a child and so was he. They’d have to wait a long time for those deeper feelings to bloom and grow; she knew that instinctively. She reached out to trace his hand, wanting to see his long dark eyelashes flutter and his eyes light up on seeing her.

Before she could reach him, she heard a knock. Rey stood and went quietly to the door, swinging it open a little way.

A tall boy with red-gold hair stared back at her. He was a year older than Ben, already beginning to grow tall and lanky.

“Who are you?” he asked in a precise, clipped voice, his blue eyes scanning the lines of her face.

“Rey,” she answered. He kept staring.

Behind her, Ben stirred and sat up. “Rey, where are you?” he asked sleepily. “Come back.” Then his gaze shifted to the door. “Tag?”

The pale boy looked back at his friend, his eyes widening. He looked almost guilty, Rey thought.

And for an instant, it was as if this scene were thrown forward at least ten years in time, its meaning shifting and changing to the far more problematic one it would have if it took place when the three of them were older. It would mean something very different then for Tag Hux to find his best friend in bed with this girl, Rey. A whisper of this shared future eddied briefly through the air while the three children all exchanged glances, as if seeing the ghosts of their older selves, and the triangle that might one day form.

Even though this was not the case now and all three of them were small children, Ben felt the first rush of jealousy, the sensation scalding and painful. He rose to his feet and stalked towards the door.

“She’s _my_ friend,” Ben said aggressively.

Tag looked startled.

Rey stepped quickly between the two boys and took each of their hands in one of hers.

“I can be Tag’s friend too,” said Rey.

“Well… **.”** Ben shot Tag a wary look. He was a generous boy, but he’d never felt so much that he wanted to keep something all for himself, not to share even with his best friend.

Rey gave his hand an extra squeeze and turned her head to give him a special smile. He was soothed. Yes, she could be Tag’s friend, but she liked _him_ best. She always would.

“Okay,” he agreed, now that he was sure the triangle would always be uneven in his favor.

Tag nodded and smiled, but his inner thoughts were running on a different track. He had learned very young to keep secrets beneath an immobile face, to let nobody else know everything that he was thinking. And now, he thought that perhaps, in time, he could persuade this girl to like him better. He liked her face, her voice, and he wanted to know more of her. The seeds of ruthlessness were in him, even though his child’s life had turned in a direction a few years before that discouraged the negative qualities he might otherwise have had. _Yes,_ he thought. _I’ll know Rey much better than I do right now. Maybe more than Ben ever will…_

“Tag!” his adopted mother’s voice rang down the corridor, and he dragged his gaze away from the little girl and walked back towards Rae Sloane in the kitchen.

About half an hour later, Leia had just finished discussing Ben’s birthday cake with Rae Sloane. She stood in the doorway to the playroom, watching her son with the girl Rey. Their heads were pressed together, ebony and auburn, both talking in hushed voices.

“I’ll take you to the big swimming pool by my school,” Ben was promising.

“That sounds fun,” said Rey.   
“And you’ll be just one grade behind me in school,” he added.

He seemed attached to her, thought Leia. Maybe _too_ attached. She frowned. She had no idea how long the girl could stay with them.

And yet…

Her earlier thoughts came back. If Rey’s family were never found, then why shouldn’t the girl stay with them? Ben seemed drawn to her as he’d never been to another child, even Tag. And Leia herself liked Rey very much. Fostering would be easy to arrange—

Lanara’s contrite face popped around the corner.

“Senator Leia, I was just stopping by, you know, the way you said I should yesterday and all that, and a message came for you, and Ms. Sloane was busy with Tag and the party decorations, so I just thought—”

“Thank you, Lanara,” Leia said, stifling a sigh. “I’ll take it in the office.”

 

Ben seemed to float on a current of happiness. Rey would stay with them from now on; he was sure of that. His earlier jealousy of Tag forgotten, he was positive that the three of them would be the best of friends. She would always like _him_ much more, of course, but he felt generous enough to let her become Tag’s friend, too. He would play with her every day; he would show her the wonderful things in his world, one by one. And best of all, she would make all of his nightmares go away. She was giggling with him now, her white teeth showing against her creamy skin, and he was excitedly telling her about the Coruscant zoo.

“I like the birds best,” he said.

“So do I,” she said. “Do they have any bloggins? They’re dumb, but they’re cute. And steelpeckers eat metal.”

“I’m not sure,” said Ben. “But I love the Porgs! You have to see them. They’ll come right up and eat out of your hand. And they have big eyes, and the prettiest smiles—"

Leia walked into the room, e-pad in hand. Her face was troubled, and Ben wondered why. Something about the way she was holding her lips had silenced him instantly, like they were right on the edge of trembling. He could picture his father saying that he had a bad feeling about this, and the thought disturbed him. But surely, surely everything would be all right now.

“Rey. Your sister Rose has been found,” said Leia.

Rey gave a shriek of delight. “Can you bring her here, and then we can both stay?” she said eagerly. She turned to Ben. “My sister can come here, right?”

“Of course.” Ben squeezed her hand. He liked the idea because it pleased Rey. “We can do that, can’t we, Mom?”

_If only we could_ , Leia thought sadly. She could have housed two extra children as easily as one. The apartment was large enough for a battalion.

“No,” she said gently. “Rey, there’s more. Your grandmother, father, and mother were all found.”

The little girl stared back at her blankly. “No. That’s wrong. My mother left us there because my father didn’t want us. Then my grandma left months later. They’re gone.”

“Someone found them all,” said Leia, hating every second of this.

“They weren’t found. They weren’t! Let me stay, please, me and Rose!” Rey begged.

“I can’t,” Leia managed to say through a lump in her throat. “You’ve got to be reunited with your family. That’s the right thing to do.”

Her son was beginning to cry; tears were rolling freely down Rey’s face. She clung to Ben and wept. Through the horrible lump in his throat, he felt the tiniest thrill of triumph. She had turned to him; she sought comfort from him alone. And besides it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t possible that Rey would leave him now, his playmate, his friend, his talisman against the dark.

He lifted his head. “Say it isn’t true, Mommy. It isn’t. She can’t leave. Rey’s going to stay, no matter what. Right?”

Leia couldn’t speak. But she had to do it, she had to part them, because it was—

No, she suddenly knew. It wasn’t right. In a flash, she knew that it was wrong to send Rey back, that something about _all_ of this felt very wrong. She knew it because she saw the future. One brief moment, lasting only a heartbeat, when she saw the little girl grown and her own son too, standing beside Rey, facing each other on a desert planet, furious because they had been wrongly parted—

And then, in a flash, it was all gone, and she was leaning against the table, weak in the knees. She couldn’t have seen the future. Such foresight was illegal, immoral. Her own brother had broken that law when he insisted on seeking out the Force. And Luke had paid the price. Their father hadn’t spoken to him in ten years. Leia herself had lost track of him nearly that long ago. She suspected that he was on the forbidden island of Ahch-To, which would be punishable by life in a prison colony, but there was no way to reach him.

She had seen nothing. It had only been her own overactive imagination. That was all the false vision had been, all it could be.

“I’m sorry, Ben. But she has to go. Rey, I’m so very sorry,” Leia said to the little girl, her voice firm. “I wish you could stay for the party, but the transport is leaving in ten minutes.”

“No,” Ben said in a very small voice. “No! This can’t happen! She has to stay. Please, please, Mommy!”

Rey’s eyes widened in horror. “Ben…” she whispered.

Leia hesitated. Maybe she could find a way… but there was no way. She couldn’t keep a child from her family just for her son’s sake.

“Maybe you can write each other,” she said, starting to lead Rey down the corridor towards the door. The little girl cried and struggled to get back to Ben; he repeated her name over and over again, but Leia kept grimly walking.

By the time she got Rey down to the connection point for the transport, the girl had stopped crying. She was a child who had learned long ago that tears accomplished nothing and were better controlled.

“I’m so very sorry, Rey,” Leia repeated.

Rey gave her a level, dry-eyed stare. “I’ll find him again, you know,” she said in the voice of an adult.

Leia had nothing to say to that. But she never forgot Rey’s words.

Ben had stopped crying too, by the time his mother returned. He was more silent throughout his birthday party than he otherwise might have been, but otherwise, it would have been difficult to tell that anything was wrong. He turned to his best friend, Tag, for comfort. They both missed Rey, united in grief at losing her, an emotion so strong that it could only be a trace of prophecy, foreshadowing the future that would bind the three of them.


	5. What Snoke Found Out

That night, Senator Snoke stood on his balcony and sipped at a glass of sweet Alderaan wine. He smiled. All was going according to plan. The little girl Rey might have been a serious distraction, might have turned Ben’s mind. Particularly if she was allowed to stay on Coruscant and she and Ben were allowed to know each other in years to come. But it hadn’t been difficult to fabricate a false message that the child’s family had turned up, which hadn’t happened, of course. Most of them could have been alive or dead, for all he knew. Rey’s half-sister Rose really had been found, however, which was a useful touch. Snoke knew from long experience that it was best to keep one’s lies intermingled with as much truth as possible. Leia had a brilliant mind, but she was also foolish and soft, and he’d known she would fall for the ploy, as she in fact did.

Yet the girl might also be of use, in some way he could not yet even guess. He had felt that when he saw her.

The problem was that he couldn’t be _sure._

Snoke tapped his fingers on the edge of the balcony. Little Ben was the keystone to all his plans. There was something about this girl Rey, the possibilities swirling around her when it came to Ben’s future, that bothered him more than anything had done in years. He had to admit it.

And there was a way that he might use to find out. It was also the only option he could think of to learn anything more about these possibilities. But in the new Republic, it was dangerous indeed.

Did he dare to take the risk?

There was no way to be sure that this was safe. The security around his private apartments were the very best that credits could buy—for any normal purpose. What he was about to do, if he actually dared to do it, was not normal. There was no knowing what sort of trace it might leave. And the penalty would be severe, even though Snoke would really be doing nothing more than exercising an inborn ability in members of his race. That would not save him, if he were discovered.

 Just the month before, a Gand had been sentenced to six months hard labor on a prison planet for doing nothing more than going deep into meditation and predicting possible futures. That talent was woven into the nature of every Gand, but the fact had been no defense.

But that girl… Rey…

Snoke came to an abrupt decision. It would be a bigger risk to allow this new danger to grow. He must gain all the knowledge he could about Rey and Ben’s future-- by any means necessary.

He went back into his apartments and entered his meditation chamber, a dim room paneled in dark wood. He opened a carved chest in one corner and took out a strand of Ben’s dark hair, and then the slightly lighter strand of Rey’s that he had obtained last night _. I suppose I knew even then that I would do this thing_ , he thought.

 _Could_ he even do it? Had the ability to divine possible futures been stamped out of his people by the prohibitions? A memory came to him from many, many years ago. He had been a small child, only a few years older than Ben Solo was now. His great-grandfather was a defiant man who refused to live in the technologically advanced cities of the planet. He lived the traditional life of the shaman of the tribe, and he had taught young Snoke the old ways. They had stood over a cauldron, the two of them, and had chanted the words of the ancient rituals, and he had tried to see the future…

And then, the world had exploded. His great-grandfather had thrown his body over the child Snoke and saved him, but his entire family had died. Snoke only learned that much later on, when he was in one of the orphanages that sprang up after the catastrophe. The Republic had been fighting some battle or other, and large swaths of his planet had been collateral damage. And he himself had sworn revenge against them, with all the hatred and venom in the heart of a child who had lost everything he loved.

Snoke shook his head. Strange, that this long-buried memory should come to him now, but perhaps it was a sign.

He took a small shining bowl from the chest and mixed the two strands of hair together in the bottom, swirling one long finger round and round, chanting long-forgotten spells. Then he stared into the bowl and waited.

For an instant, Snoke was sure that he had failed completely. He stared down into the bottom of the bowl, his eyes angry and fixed. _Work, damn you! Show me what I must see! Unless I see, I cannot have revenge. The revenge for which I would gladly give my life…_

The strands of hair shone brighter and brighter, casting a glow across the entire dark room. As Snoke continued to stare, he fell into the bowl, and he left the room and his reality behind.

A tall young man with long dark hair and intense eyes, confronting a young woman with a fierce, lovely face. Dust swirled around them, catching at her deep auburn hair, blowing out strands in the wind to mingle with his. They were shouting at each other, but he could hear nothing of the scene below him. He only saw small, brightly colored images.

Snoke reached deeper, deeper…

And then he felt the young man’s emotions, burning and palpable, solid as flesh. Anger. Hurt. And… desire. Above all, desire. _This is Ben,_ Snoke realized. Perhaps twelve or thirteen years from the present. _And Rey._ _And he wants her, desperately._

No matter what else might be going on here, that much was clear. And no wonder. Rey was beautiful and vibrantly alive, sparking with energy and emotion.

For an instant, the sight of her older self even touched him with a twinge of regret that he’d been forced to renounce all sensual pleasures in exchange for power. His race was very long-lived, and he could still be quite active… but no. There was no pleasure more potent than power. He forced himself to refocus on the scene and to consider what it meant.

Rey had matured and become much more tantalizing fruit, affecting the older Ben’s desires in a much simpler and more direct fashion. And Rey felt at least some of what he did. Snoke could see nothing that hinted at the context of this scene. But it was clear that at the very least, lust crackled and seethed between them. If their emotions went deeper than that, he could not see. However, this simple bond was sharp and deep enough on its own.

He kept studying them as they stared at each other. Nothing had happened between them yet, he sensed. Their passion was unconsummated by so much as a touch of hands. He had trouble reading Rey; she was more guarded. But Ben… he was consumed by her, haunted by the kiss she had not yet given him.

A man in that state could be manipulated so easily.

His perspective swung round almost dizzyingly, as if he were suddenly seeing the scene from another point of view. And he was, Snoke realized after a moment. Another young man was standing behind the corner of a tumbledown building and watching Ben and Rey. He was tall and slim, with red-gold hair and bright blue eyes. And Snoke felt one emotion from him very clearly. A blazing jealousy.

Then he was pulled out of the scene as quickly as a ship entering hyperspace, left blinking down at the dull bottom of a bowl.

Snoke carefully put all the ritual items away and then returned to the balcony, sitting in his chair and thinking.

There was never any way to know if these sorts of visions were accurate. But what Snoke did believe was that he’d accurately seen both Ben and Rey in twelve or thirteen years. He’d been right about her importance to Ben. They would be drawn to each other, given the opportunity. If they met, they might form a bond that would be difficult to break—unless he could somehow control it.

Perhaps he might whisper suggestions to Ben about Rey’s untrustworthiness, her deceptive nature, so that he would suspect the girl if and when he met her again. Yes, something along those lines would likely be best. An older Ben would still be drawn to the girl, but he would not trust her, and he would believe whatever Snoke had said about her.

And then there was the second boy. Snoke already had reasons to keep tabs on that one, the redheaded child who would grow to become this man. Armitage Hux, called Tag. Ben’s best friend, only one year older. Now, why was _he_ a part of this scene?

Snoke grimaced, remembering the boy’s grandfather, Zacharias Hux. He had been one of Palpatine’s alternate choices for the Contingency, but he’d drunk and drugged himself to death and neatly removed himself from the equation. His son, Brendol Hux, had been a different story. A blustering brute, overfond of cruelty, his ambition had outreached his talents. He’d been easy to discredit and discard, however, and he’d disappeared only a few years earlier. Snoke remembered the rest now. Brendol had fathered a bastard son on some woman on Arkanis. Just before his elimination, he’d been planning to retrieve the five-year-old boy and train him in military fashion, in secret. That fool Rae Sloane had adopted Armitage shortly afterwards, and was raising him to appreciate art and culture, of all things.

Snoke snorted at the thought. Considering the man’s nature, he’d done little Armitage a favor by ridding the child of such a father. _The gods only know how the child would have turned out with an influence like Brendol Hux._ But still… Armitage Hux would be worth keeping an eye on. The vision seemed to show that he would be drawn to Rey as well. Jealousy was a powerful emotion indeed, particularly for two young men whose desires pushed them towards the same woman. Properly manipulated, that weakness might be enough to push Ben in the direction that Snoke wished him to go, one day.

Snoke let himself relax back in the padded chair, suddenly feeling very tired. He looked over the blazing cityscape of Coruscant, his future plans running through his head. As always after divination, however, he felt a little distracted, a little thrown off base—which was one reason why he used it so rarely. But not like this; never like this. Now he felt something else, a respect he had never before possessed for that art.

He had not really understood how powerful the skills endemic to his planet could be. Maybe this understanding had led him to a breakthrough that night.

Perhaps, thought Snoke as he sipped the wine, he was beginning to understand that the way Palpatine had ignored these sorts of powers was his true failing--  because the would-be Emperor had come closer to success than anyone knew. Palpatine had certainly used the powers of the Force. Clearly, he had known that the Force was simply _there,_ a power available to anyone with the training, cunning, and ruthlessness to use it. But he had thought it ran only within the narrow channel of Jedi and Sith. Snoke had actually spoken with Palpatine only a very few times before the Chancellor’s death, but he’d always sensed that Palpatine regarded the magical arts of the Western Reaches with contempt.

 _Was I really fool enough to do the same?_ wondered Snoke. _Yes… I think that perhaps I was._

Palpatine hadn’t understood, or respected, the power of _magic._ Very few people in the galaxy did. Most who had grown up in the far Western Reaches and then left them behind, as Snoke had, also forgot the primitive powers, the ones that all the technological experts scorned. But still, these powers existed. And because nobody was prepared to defend against them, they could one day triumph.

Anakin Skywalker perhaps comprehended a bit, thought Snoke. He had outlawed divination, prophesy, clairvoyance, telepathy, and so forth. But the president of the Republic still lacked true understanding. Skywalker truly believed that by banning both Jedi and Sith, he had banished the power of darkness.

“He will learn, in time, how wrong he is,” whispered Snoke. “As will they all.”

And through his power. His alone. Unshared—

A strange sound drifted through the scented night air. A faint, mocking laugh.

Snoke leaped to his feet and pressed a button to activate a force field around the balcony. Several moments passed, and he only heard the muted hum of speeders below.

For the briefest instant, he had a sudden, strange feeling that his plans were not quite his own. That he was only a puppet, perhaps, controlled by someone else, over and above him and impossibly remote. He even _felt_ that presence momentarily, an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention.

Then it passed. He sat back in his chair with a sigh. The sound had been his imagination, nothing more.

Palpatine was long gone. Snoke had been lucky enough to seize power in the Contingency, winning out above all others. They had fallen away, and he had remained and won. And above all, he now fully understood that he could wield powers few were even aware existed.

His child apprentice was shaping well. He himself had discovered a valuable future pawn in the girl Rey. Even Tag Hux might somehow serve him, one day. And best of all, an idea had come to him, showing him the best way to twist Ben's memories of Rey so that he wouldn't trust her when they met again as adults. Yes, all was well. Snoke smiled, and sipped his wine, and dreamed of the years to come.

In his bed that night, Ben Solo was sure that he would never sleep again. But he was a healthy child, so at last, he did sleep, and he dreamed. It was a half-lucid dream, so he knew that it took place many years in the future, and that he himself was now a young man.

Snoke stood with Ben at the top of a balcony in Coruscant, sweeping a spiderlike hand over the glowing, sleepless city. “All this I will give to you, my apprentice, if you will only follow me.”

“No,” he tried to say. “I don’t want any of it. Not enough to become the monster that you will make me.”

Only saying the words felt like lifting a thousand tons of weight, but still, he said them. There was a reason why he must not obey Snoke in this, no matter what it cost him.

“And why is that?” asked Snoke, watching him closely.

The priceless buildings were empty; the glowing streets were bare. “ _She’s_ not there,” he said.

Snoke’s thin- lipped mouth twisted.

“So you want her so much? Rey? This scavenger, this worthless girl from a lifeless place infested by the dregs of the galaxy?”

As if the dismissive wave of Snoke’s hand had conjured her up, a girl appeared. Ben could not have said how this happened. She wasn’t standing on the balcony with them; he didn’t see her walking on the streets of the city or riding in a hovercraft in the air. But somehow, she was there, and with the logic of dreams, he looked at her.

She was Rey, the girl he had known for a day. But she was different from that girl, ten or twelve years older at least, a young woman. She was taller, her body slender and strong and softly rounded at breasts and hips, her face matured into high cheekbones and pointed chin and sloping forehead, her hair long on her broad shoulders. But her eyes… her eyes were the same. The same large, deep wells of dark gold.

Snoke made a dismissive noise. “How could you refuse all of these riches and power for that girl? Do you know what girls do to scratch out a living on that poverty-stricken planet? No?” He moved around Ben, who was still staring at Rey, willing her to look back at him.

“They steal. They scavenge. And they work in brothels, servicing smugglers and bounty hunters who can pay a few credits,” said Snoke. “There is no trade but crime on Jakku. So by the time she’s reached the age you see here, she’ll be exactly like all the other girls, a cheap little whore—”

“Don’t you dare say that about Rey!” he flared up. His fists clenched. “I’ll find her first—I’ll get to her first. Before she’s ever driven to selling herself. Then she’ll give herself to me, and to nobody else, ever. I will do this, Snoke; I will. You can’t stop me.”

Snoke gave him a long look, tapping one spiderlike finger against his chin. “Well, we will see. We will see. There is time. She may yet be of use; who can say?

_Still the contingency… the contingency…_

Ben Solo woke reaching across the bed, his little hand scrabbling for someone who wasn’t there, who would not comfort him, who was gone. He curled up into a ball, cried himself to sleep, and continued to dream of Rey. They were two happy children weaving daisy-chains in a meadow, laughing together, because it was his own dream and not Snoke’s. And perhaps Snoke did not control Ben’s mind as thoroughly as he believed.

For her part, Rey had long ago learned not to cry. But as she slept with all the other children on cots in the cargo hold of the freighter to the Outer Reaches, she dreamed of Ben, and woke, and sorrowed silently.

Until, one day, on the shifting sands of Jakku, they met again.

But that is a good story for another time.

+++++the end... for now+++++++

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to the mods and admins of Reylo Trash Compactor writers' group for running the Summer Vibes Reylo Fest! The prompt was "surfing", btw. And yes, this fic is part of a much larger universe, so there's more coming soon. :)


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